


Şehzade

by HammeredAlice



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aomine belongs into the harem, Kagami is a prince, M/M, Ottoman Empire AU, i have no explanation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HammeredAlice/pseuds/HammeredAlice
Summary: Şehzade Sultan Taiga falls in love with his newest gift - a blue-eyed boy set on escaping from the walls of the imperial harem.(That Mühteşem Yuzyıl AU: Kagami is a prince, Aomine is a literal gift, together they might or might not make a history.)





	Şehzade

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I know I haven't posted anything in a while, sorry about that. This idea kept bugging me for a long time - guess I just had to get it out of my system by this point. All in all, I might have watched too much Magnificent Century and then, this happened.  
> Anyway, a little info for those who don't know - şehzade is read like "shehzade." Also, Agha and Effendi are titles. Some parts of the story are inspired by real historical occurrences (Ottomans were famous for their fratricides, don't blame me) while others were added/morphed for the sake of fiction. I'm not an expert on any of these cultures. Also, I wrote better half of this while pulling an all-nighter and English is not my mother tongue, so please don't be surprised if you find some fuckups.  
> Hope you'll enjoy the chapter, even though this one is more of a prologue than actual chap.  
> Have a nice day!

  There’s no way to tell on which day it all happened nor in which year; he couldn’t be older than five or six though, and his chambers still lied within the great suite of his mother. It was certainly an impressive place, stretching through the better part of the harem’s second floor and overseeing the Golden Horn, a place where the Bosphorus meets the Marmara Sea. The furniture, the decorations, the gifts Father would send her every other day –  those who found themselves lucky enough to enter those rooms were said to turn speechless by the lavish life Sultan bestowed upon his favorite consort.

  Still, Taiga remembered none of it. Everything he knew, he knew only thanks to Alexandra and her stories. He remembered nothing of the great rooms and Father’s daily visits; the only memories he could recall from that early, happy part of his childhood were all somehow tied to his mother.

  She smelled like roses. Roses and all kinds of sweets. She'd never fail to bring Taiga something edible, even when Father forbid everyone from feeding him more than he considered fit. Mother had none of it. “It’s not the child’s fault that he is still hungry, is it? Besides, you want him to grow strong!”

  “You’re not making him strong, woman, you’re spoiling him! You’re making my son into a weakling,” Father would say, but Taiga knew better.

  Mother loved him dearly.

  She’d chase him down the palace halls and play with him in the gardens when his brothers refused to. When his tutors lost their patience with him and deemed him too thickheaded, she’d teach him herself. When Father decided he favored his brothers over him, she’d sit him down and tell him the stories of her homeland – a place on the other end of the world – and her family; mama, papa and siblings of her own. Perhaps he had more in common with them than he had with the sultan, but how would he ever know? Mother wasn’t allowed to leave the palace and nor was he, as long as Father didn’t say otherwise. Not that Taiga minded. Back then, he thought the palace was the best place in the world, after all, Mother was there with him and that was all he needed.

  Until one day, she wasn’t.

  Taiga watched from the Tower of Justice as the servants carried her coffin down the courtyard and through the Imperial Gate before disappearing entirely in the crowded streets of Istanbul. That was the last time he had seen his mother.

  He missed her - he’d never thought he could miss someone this much. Mother was as much the center of his world as he was hers and no amount of teachers and governesses could ever fill the hole she left behind.

  Since then, Taiga had to grow up quickly.

  Most people might think that life in the imperial palace was a paradise. What a naïve folk were they! No, it was as far from paradise as one could go. When he was older, Taiga once read a private letter confiscated from a trespassing western diplomat, describing the palace as a golden cage housing birds with clipped wings. See, that was quite amusing. What kind of bird had the diplomat in mind when he wrote those lines? A nightingale, gentle and beautiful, or perhaps a falcon with its eyes firmly set on its prey? Or were they nothing more than a simple flock of vultures? Sometimes he couldn’t even tell.

  Yet days flew by and memories faded away.

  The weeks following Mother’s burial found the young şehzade moving, adjusting to a new, different role in a new, harsher world. The palace politics were actually easy to grasp, even for a small child - it was survival of the fittest, a great race among Sultan’s sons and their respective mothers, with the prize being nothing less than the greatest empire in the world. 

  You either ascend the throne or you die.

  Simple, isn’t it?

  Father had soon found another favorite, had another child. Taiga couldn’t rely on his protection anymore. He was alone; alone and vulnerable, far too young to navigate through the mess of the harem intrigues on his own. Those were frightening times. As a motherless şehzade with more brothers than fingers on his hands, he was generally considered a dead meat. After all, children get sick all the time. He had seen many of his brothers fall prey to a strange, sudden diseases; he had heard their mothers’ weeping, still, death wasn’t coming for him.

  Over the span of his boyhood, Taiga had developed many theories why – the first and probably the most likely to be true was that he wasn’t perceived as a threat anymore. His mother might be Sultan’s favorite wife once, but she was long gone and so was the influence she had on Father. The great women of harem probably didn’t consider him dangerous enough to be killed. Not that he minded.

  His brothers didn’t seem to mind him either. The older ones hardly felt threatened by a constantly hungry, scrawny child. They would sometimes make fun of him for eating so much, but some of them would then also bring him baked chestnuts and other treats and ruffle his hair. The palace life had many faces and so did they.

  Taiga's most favorite brother of them all was Tatsuya.

  The şehzade looked like a doll, really, every haseki in the harem had said so. His hair was coal black and skin as fair as fresh snow, and he carried himself with all the calm confidence of a future padishah. He was also clever, more than Taiga could ever hope for, so much that every teacher praised him, especially in front of Father.

  Taiga looked up to him. He did, really. If he could choose among his brothers and say who will eventually sit on Father’s throne, he’d always pick Tatsuya.

  They used to play together a lot - tag, hide and seek, chess - the fact that he’d never won anythinng didn’t bother Taiga in the slightest. He was happy to be in the other’s presence and that was all that really mattered.

  But even the time of childish games eventually came to be over. It happened on yet another of Zulfikar Agha’s fencing lessons; they were fourteen and relatively carefree, trading blows with steel swords for the first time. The whole thing was mostly Taiga’s fault - he kept on nagging about the wooden swords until the teacher eventually got fed up with him and gave in.

  See, Taiga had always been good when it came to physical tasks. Gone was the thin, frail kid. He was growing taller and broader with each season, causing many sleepless nights for the palace tailor.

  Anyway, the fencing lesson continued as always. It was one of the few feats he could actually do better than Tatsuya, winning almost every duel with ease. Perhaps it was a competitive streak or maybe the thrill of wielding a real scimitar for the first time, Taiga didn’t know anymore. He might've only leaned into the blow with too much strength. The next thing he knew was a quiet whisper of the steel and a sharp, pained shriek.

  Then, blood.

  The scimitar bit into Tatsuya’s mid-thigh, leaving behind an angry, weeping gash. Taiga froze.

  This wasn’t what he wanted, no. This wasn’t what he wanted at all! Taiga would never intentionally hurt Tatsuya, he loved his brother very much and everyone knew, he was the only person in this stupid palace Taiga really cared for, God damn it! But of course Tatsuya’s mother took it as a fratricide attempt and since then, she forbid her son from seeing Taiga again. Life became grim since then.

  The second theory about his surprising survival and the one Teppei - his new Persian guard, confidant and probably also Father’s spy in one person – claimed to be true was that he was favored by God. Or fortune. Or both.

  Now that was an utter bullshit; had God ever favored him, he’d be born on the other end of the world, as far from Istanbul as possible. He told Teppei as much.

  The third one wasn’t really Taiga’s to begin with; it was something Kizlar Agha, the chief black eunuch, once told him when they witnessed yet another small, black coffin leaving the palace gates. He pointed towards Taiga’s chest.

  “Thank the nazar, şehzade.”

  “The nazar?”

  There wasn’t anything special about the amulet, was there? It was barely the size of a golden coin, resting against Taiga’s chest, under layers and layers of clothing, hidden from everyone’s eyes. He had never paid it any real attention. “But Agha,” he countered that day, “it’s just a piece of jewelry.”

  The old eunuch only shook his head. “Oh no, my prince. A nazar is much more than a mere jewelry.”

  Taiga didn’t understand. He’d always thought that the blue eye was simply Mother’s favorite pendant. That was the reason why he chose to keep it in the first place – as a reminder, nothing more and nothing less. He had no need for silly amulets.

  “It is a very powerful thing,” Kizlar Agha whispered and his voice scraped the inside of Taiga’s skull like a sandpaper. “It symbolizes a blue eye, an evil eye. A witch’s eye!”

  Now Taiga had a hard time not rolling his own eyes. Great, he was in not only for a funeral, but also for a fairytale.

  “The nazar wards off any curses and protects you from harm. Don’t underestimate its power.” With that, the eunuch straightened, nodding his head in approval. “Your mother left you a great charm! You should always have it on yourself no matter what and, if only God allows it, one day you might even become the next padishah.”

  That was a very brave statement, especially when they were surrounded by so many people. Had anyone overheard what the chief black eunuch told him that day, he might’ve lost his head faster than Taiga could say nazar.

   The little amulet suddenly became something very amusing. It turned into a permanent, indispensable part of his daily attire and soon, everyone knew about the late Sultana’s last gift.

  See, Taiga didn’t wear it because he wanted to become the padishah as the eunuch said. He doubted the amulet had any power at all, but he thing he really began to adore was its vibrant shade of blue. It felt so dream-like and soothing like a midnight sky; he could so easily get lost in it, let his mind wander far beyond the walls of Istanbul, even beyond the bounds of Father’s empire. It became the shade of freedom.

  He was no longer allowed to share fencing lessons with any of his brothers, although the crown prince demanded once or twice to see with his own eyeswhat kind of a swordsman Taiga had really become. Instead, Zulfikar Agha made him train with Teppei. Even that turned out to be a problem.

  Training with his brothers was one thing, but the guard? God be merciful!

  Taiga was barely sixteen, almost old enough to pick his own concubine from the hundreds of odalisques in the imperial harem when he finally admitted to himself he’d much rather kiss his guard. Was he supposed to train with him now?! Zulfikar Agha must be trying to get him killed!

  “Come on, Shahzada!” Teppei laughed. “You can do better than this!” His accent got thicker whenever he got excited. Taiga was just recovering from the sneaky _shahzada_ thing when the guard leaped forward.

  He’d swear he could feel the steel trimming the ends of his hair.

  Surprised, Taiga parried hastily. Teppei favored a short Persian sword over the normal scimitar; it was more of a dagger than anything else and required him to get closer to his opponent than a normal sword would. “Ha!” The second his fingers curled around Taiga’s wrist, the şehzade knew he was doomed.

  He was yanked forward quite harshly. The force behind the movement made him collide with the older’s chest momentarily - another moment of him being an unfocused idiot - before Teppei knocked the scimitar out of his hand. The steel rang against the stone tiles. Zulfikar Agha was shouting something, but Taiga didn’t understand. He had no time to ponder about the firmness of Teppei’s chest either before he was hurled to the ground, his side colliding with the tiles.

  “Şehzade-”

  Whatever the old janissary had to say, the prince didn’t hear. He was far too distracted by the older boy crouching by his side, blinding smile plastered on his lips. Teppei’s left hand rested on his chest, holding him down while he pointed the dagger-sword at Taiga’s face and chuckled: “Not bad, Shahzada, but try to stay on your feet the next time.”

   He wasn’t sure whether his heart could handle any of these next times. Part of him was strangely comfortable right where he was, on his back, with a handsome young man smiling down at him, uncaring of the steel caressing his collarbone.

  That was until Teppei rested the blade against his nazar.

  Taiga had seen the maneuver only a few times. Using it now wasn’t only courageous, but also borderline stupid. Zulfikar Agha must’ve foreseen what was he about to do. His voice cut through the courtyard - “Şehzade, no!” - but it was too late.

  Taiga swatted the short blade away before springing up. He caught Teppei by surprise. The next second, Taiga’s upper body slammed into his side, the force of the impact making him fall backwards.

  Now it was his turn to boast.

  “You meant something like this?” He smirked. Taiga tried to mimic the hold Teppei had on him just seconds ago, but it was almost impossible when lacking the blade. There was also a distraction in the form of the other’s knee wedged between his. Hell.

  As much as he enjoyed the previous outcome, he’d admit that having such a firm body underneath him was perhaps even more exciting. His mind was quick to supply few less than appropriate images and Taiga quickly pushed them all away, equal parts shocked and embarrassed. What the hell was he even doing?!

  Teppei didn’t notice his growing.. discomfort, thank God. “See? That’s better!” He was laughing again, head thrown back and his frame shaking so hard even Taiga could feel the convulsions traveling down his core.

  He was royally fucked, all jokes aside.

 

* * *

 

 

  Ten years had passed since Mother's burial when Father finally decided to release him from the prison that was the imperial palace.

  He was seventeen now and the memories he had of his mother had almost vanished. He could still picture her face, vaguely, mostly thanks to the people pointing out all the features they shared, but aside from that? Nothing. He could no longer recall the sound of her voice nor any of her stories. She was slowly but surely slipping out of his grasp and it troubled Taiga to no ends.

  The less he could remember her, the more he loved her nazar.

  The blue eye was hanging around his neck all the time; when he woke up, when he studied, when he laid down to sleep. Wherever he went, the nazar went with him.

  “See?” Kizlar Agha chuckled as he let him towards the audience hall, “I told you it’s a powerful charm.” A small, mysterious smile was playing on his lips. Taiga didn’t know what to make of it.

  When he was younger, Father once took him into the audience hall, so he could see the place from which he ruled the world. It wasn’t as much a hall as it was a room, with twin doors in front and a large window with iron bars in the middle of the main façade -  foreign ambassadors would leave gifts by that window.

  “What’s going on?” Taiga pried. Father had no reason to see him today, much less in front of the men of the imperial council. What was going on? He didn’t understand! Were they finally going to kill him too?!

  He would swear that the eunuchs of harem could read thoughts.

  “Don’t worry, my şehzade, Sultan is in a good mood.” The old man smiled and the wrinkles on his face only deepened. They had always reminded Taiga of a map - a key to navigate story of the man’s life, the five decades of servitude in this great, awful palace - each passing year leaving a new mark in the eunuch’s skin. He’s always been kind to Taiga. Seeing him age and shrink moved something in the şehzade’s chest.

  “Believe me, we should expect great news today!”

  Great for whom, huh?! For him? For the empire? Or for one of his brothers?

  It is said that a man cannot change his fate; Taiga didn’t consider it to be necessarily true. He’d like to think that his path altered with every step he took, each decision he’d made. Right or not, it didn’t matter. Every moment of his life built up to this day, this moment.

  You either rule or you die - there’s no middle ground, anyway.

  A pair of palace guards opened the doors for him.

  At first, he hesitated. Fingers of his right instinctively caressed his nazar - he took a deep breath and tried to recall the exact shade of blue, hoping it would offer him at least a bit of a comfort.

  Midnight blue. Rich and vibrant.

  They say that everyone’s heaven is different. If so, then his will be dipped in midnight blue.

  “Behold, Şehzade Sultan Taiga Hazretleri Efendi!”

  He’s never been formally introduced before.

  It wasn’t a dead man’s introduction, that was for sure. Instead, he felt alive. Empowered. For the first time in his life, Taiga felt the surge of courage and power coming with his position. He walked in front of the council with his head held high, the way he saw fit of an imperial prince, the way Mother once taught him to walk. Viziers, Sheikhs and Pashas alike, they all bowed their heads when he passed them and Taiga tried to greet them as best as he could.

  His insides trembled.

  The walls were ornamented with tortoiseshell and mother of pearl, full of beautiful, intricate designs. The fireplace, the furniture, the throne inlaid with jewels - there was too much to look at. This chamber was a face which the empire decided to show the whole wide world and Sultan was its voice.

  “Father,” Taiga bowed.

  The black eunuch was right - the sultan was in high spirits today. He greeted the şehzade with kind voice and smile on his lips, a sight hardly ever seen by anyone, much less by the men of the imperial council.

  “Grand Vizier Effendi, my viziers, pashas, ministers,” he began, “I believe you haven’t had the chance to meet my youngest son yet.”

  Taiga flinched at the words; he couldn’t fight it. He was hardly the youngest, did Father forget?! What about all those coffins they’ve seen leaving the palace gates, huh? What about these children?

  Did they really mean so little to him?

  They were graced with another of Sultan’s condescending smiles and Taiga’s stomach threatened to turn.

  So, he was officially introduced to the men of Divan. As he stood in front of Father’s throne, awaiting whatever verdict he was about to receive, Taiga could feel their gazes piercing his back, calculating. It’s not like they’ve been clueless about his existence until now, no - every time a royal child was born, there were celebrations - they just paid him no attention. Without Mother, there was no one to bribe them into supporting yet another child’s claim on succession and the şehzade himself had nothing to give aside from empty promises.

  Everything had changed on that day.

  To say he was surprised would be a huge understatement. Taiga was speechless. Stupefied. He was being sent away, to govern the province of Manisa, the very same province Father was sent to rule when he was his age. Should he be honored? Should he take it as some kind of a sign?

  “May God grant you a safe journey, my son,” Sultan told him ceremoniously. “Now you may leave.”

  That was the last time he had seen his Father. Just like with the palace, Taiga didn’t miss him at all.

  It’s said that the sultan is the shadow of God on Earth. Perhaps it was true; still, Taiga felt it weakening with each mile he put between himself and the city of Istanbul.

  “Does that make you a shadow’s shadow?” Teppei scratched his chin.

  Of course he accompanied him to the province. Taiga had the feeling that Father wouldn’t even let him leave without Teppei by his side, although he didn’t mind. The puppy love he felt towards the guard was mostly gone now. Sure, there was still the physical attraction, but he had learned to live with that.

  When he entered the gates of Manisa, he didn’t feel like a shadow at all, but more like a bright light. Finally, he gained at least some sense of freedom. Being no longer tied down by the rules of the palace, Taiga felt as if he could breathe freely for the first time in his life.

  It was magnificent.

  Here, he wasn’t just another şehzade - he was the şehzade and as months passed, he grew more confident, his moves became bolder. So did his love life.

  Manisa was simply great.

  Sure, he had to attend his own albeit smaller version of Divan. The local pashas proved to be the biggest - and honestly, the only - pain in the ass. They’d argue about everything; taxes, crops, even the most meaningless things. An instant headache. Shutting them up soon became Taiga’s hobby and he cultivated that interest every council meeting until they all sort of resignated.

  All but one.

  Kasim Avşar Pasha.

  Just the name was enough to make Taiga roll his eyes. The man was like a goddamned ram! When he set his mind on some goal, he’d bully the meeker pashas into supporting him. The others, he’d bribe. It was the same modus operandi he’d seen in the imperial harem and honestly, Taiga was more than fed up with that.

  “Congratulations, my şehzade,” Kasim Pasha told him the very first time they met, “we are thrilled to welcome you in our beautiful city.” The man’s face clearly said he would much rather welcome a plague than him, but Taiga wrote it off as a political thing. After all, his smile wasn’t exactly sincere either.

  Everything would go smoothly, only if Kasim Pasha hadn’t opened his mouth again: “I am very sorry about your late mother. What a formidable woman! We didn’t even hope you would make it this far without her aid.”

  See?

  “Tough luck, Pasha,” Taiga sneered at the still smiling man. He couldn’t think of any better comeback at that moment and it pissed him off to no ends.

  His great-grandfather was said to have executed all of his ministers in one day, just because he felt like it. This Kasim man’s only luck was that he wasn’t allowed to do anything like that. Yet.

  Once the council was over, he would go mingle with the people at the tmarketplace - secretly, of course - and listen to what they had to say about the state of their province. They actually made more sense than some of the pashas. There was a place he began to favor most of them all, a cheap guest house tucked away in the farthest corner of the cotton market.

  Taiga was eighteen and infatuated with a simple servant boy.

  His eyes were like molten gold and his mere presence was all it took to light up the gloomy guest house. Taiga found himself more and more drawn towards this enticing light, step by step, evening after evening. Before long, he found himself stumbling into one of the vacant guest rooms, arms full of the lithe, firm body.

  Teppei would tease him about it mercilessly. He was the only one who knew about the budding romance, simply because he caught Taiga sneaking into his own bedroom in the dead of night and took him for some sloppy assassin.

  Even so, the relationship was only short-lived. Taiga guessed he wasn’t cut out for romance - he visited every other day, got to know every little detail about his lover, but shared none of his own. It wasn’t exactly fair, but what was he supposed to say? Actually, my real name is Taiga and I’m third in line for the imperial throne?

  Yeah, that was nonsense.

  The rumors were another thing. Taiga had no doubt that Father kept eye on him, just as he had no doubt he’d be punished had he messed in any way. The last thing he possibly needed was the “şehzade beds men” gossip to teach his ears. He didn’t want to picture the consequences.

  He’d been governing Manisa for almost a year and half when the letter came.

  Taiga just stumbled out of bed after one particularly eventful night, still a little bit drowsy and ready to devour a whole cow when Teppei marched into his suite, paler than death itself.

  He handed Taiga a precisely engraved gold tube. “This came in the night, Shahzada.”

  Taiga didn’t need to be told anything more; he recognized it as soon as Teppei pulled it out of his sleeve.

  So, Father did not forget him. Sadly.

  “You should’ve brought it immediately.” He frowned, but as always, Teppei didn’t give a damn: “Well, I would, but you were in the middle of something-”

  The gesture he’d make then almost made Taiga spit out his morning tea.

  However, all the laughter died on his lips as soon as he opened the postal tube. The letter had Father’s tughra, the calligraphic seal, but it was written by the shaky hand of Kizlar Agha.

  His presence was demanded in Istanbul.

  The journey was quite tiresome. How many days has it been since they said their goodbyes to the gates of Manisa? Five or six?

  Taiga didn't know. He stopped counting after the third sunrise. What use was it anyway, to keep a track of his own demise? The farther he was from the imperial palace, the better. It was already a miracle that he weren't executed on the spot, and one can escape death only so many times.

  He still couldn’t fathom what was really happening.

  In his letter, Kizlar Agha wrote that the sultan was beside himself with rage. He ordered an immediate execution of Taiga’s eldest brother even though the crown prince was in Antalya, his province, and now he had sent even for him.

  One letter was all it took for his world to shatter. Suddenly, he was the same scrawny child, watching coffin after coffin pass through the Imperial Gate, wondering whether it was already his turn or not.

  And now it was only him and Tatsuya.

  As far as Taiga knew, his last brother was still in Istanbul - Father kept him close. Perhaps he finally decided it was him who will become his successor and was now clearing his way, but who knew? It hardly mattered, anyway.

  The one thing that really troubled Taiga, besides the obvious closeness of death, was the fate of his eldest brother. See, he had never really got to know the crown prince, never really spoke to him. His mother was Alexandra, the blonde haseki, Sultan’s first wife. Even when Father fell out of love with her, he still listened to her advice and valued her opinions, so how could he do this to her? How could he do this to his own child?

  The situation was even weirder since part of him had ways believed that Father would have no problem getting rid of him, but only him. Not his favorite son.

  Taiga didn’t know what to think anymore.

  The days became awfully repetitive a d today wasn’t going to be any different. They woke up, shared a small breakfast - mostly bread and few bits of the dried meat - and Kasim Pasha once again shared his opinion about the true outcome of their journey. Taiga ignored him quite profoundly. He was slowly losing his temper with the man; Kasim Pasha knew that very well, yet he still pressed, carded trough the possibilities one by one into a great detail, especially the more gruesome ones.

  "Death is lurking behind the gates of the imperial palace," he huffed omniously, "may God deliver you from its claws." Hadn't he shut up after that, Taiga might have delivered the man to God's gates himself. Sultan must have wanted to torture him before his death when he assigned the honorable Kasim Avşar Pasha to travel with him.

  Teppei was glued to his side for the better part of the afternoon, now more wary than ever. He was muttering something in his mother tongue - prayers, Taiga assumed - bit aside from that, they rode in silence. Everyone knew that a şehzade’s lifespan could turn out to be quite short, but everyone also naturally assumed that the executions would begin after Sultan’s death, not prior to it. Obviously, they were all mistaken.

  “We should reach the city hate around noon.”

  That felt far too soon.

  Taiga’s eyes slid over the open sky. The blues were fading on the western side, mixing with gold and red of the sunset, while the east was already dressed in indigo. That simple sight was enough to bring a small smile to his face. He loved that color - he always had, even as a child, so much that they painted the ceiling of his chamber with it.

  If he were about to die tomorrow, he hoped it would be after sunset.

  “Stop thinking about stupid things!”

  A large palm came out of nowhere, whacking his back so hard he almost fell off the horse. “What the hell, Teppei?!”

  “It was for your own good,” the Persian pain in the ass shrugged. “Now stop glooming! You are still alive, so act like it!”

  “That’s easier said than do-”

  “Who cares?! I’ve raised you better than this. So what if this is your last night? Do you want to spend it sulking?”

  “No,” Taiga rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it; the last thing he needed was a pep talk.

  Teppei obviously couldn’t help himself either - he smacked him again, this time on the shoulder. “Then act like it!” There was a brief moment of silence, but the ordeal wasn’t over yet. Taiga would swear the guard was plotting something so hard, he could basically see steam coming out of his ears.

  “Look, there must be some town nearby-”

  And yeah, he was right; Teppei did plot something.

  “-so I say we will get there and then we’ll find you some nice-”

  “Nice what?”

  It was Kasim Pasha who so suddenly materialized by the guard’s side, face as smug as always. Taiga suspected it was him who spread all those - albeit mostly true- rumors about him and now he also decided to eavesdrop, huh?! That was the point where he considered hurling something at Pasha. Perhaps he’d come to his senses after a decent hit on the head and would for once leave them alone. He might even do it, but Teppei acted faster.

  “A nice place to sleep, my dear Pasha! Come on, wouldn’t you like that? I certainly would!” Then, he gave Pasha’s horse a nice, loud pat. It must’ve taken the poor animal by surprise because the next thing they knew, Pasha was galloping ahead of the whole group.

  Taiga couldn’t help but grin. He really was a lucky one to have a friend as good as Teppei.

  “What are you laughing at, Shahzada?! I’m not done with you yet!”

  Of course not.

  The sky was already dark when they stumbled upon a village.

 

* * *

 

 

  His face was burning.

  That, or it already went numb from how much he smiled the whole time; Daiki wasn’t sure.

  He just plopped down onto one of the sitting pillows next to his mama, as far from the fires as possible, hoping to finally cool down a bit. God, it was so hot! How the hell? Wasn’t it supposed to be cold in the night?

  “Stop fooling around, you’re all sweaty,” she scrunched her nose at him.

  She wasn’t wrong; Daiki could feel one particular drop of sweat sliding down his brow, threatening to get into his eye. He was about to wipe it off, but then he moved too late and “fuck!” That stung! Quick, what now? He buried his face into the fabric of his kaftan and left out a sigh of relief as the stinging sensation in his eyes slowly dissipated.

  He shouldn’t have done that. The next thing he heard was mama’s: “You! Don’t wipe your sweaty face into such nice clothes!” A small palm landed on his knee, lightly, more for a show than anything else, before she went on. “Why is my son such a rascal? Haven’t I taught you better, huh? Where are your manners?”

  She continued to rant for some more time, but Daiki didn’t pay attention anymore. It wasn’t as if she were really angry, anyway - had that been the case, then she’d just smack him with her sandal.

  Something else now caught his eye. He noticed a blurred reflection of his youngest sister in one of the nearby cups. She was sneaking towards him as best as she could, surely hoping to jump on his back for the umpteenth time this evening.

  Well, what could he say? Everyone was feeling merry.

  He could already hear her snickering; she jumped a moment later, but Daiki was faster. He turned around and caught the shrieking child into his arms. “Ha, gotcha!” This time, mama really did smack him with her sandal. “Stop it, you two!” They did as they were told, but not without a good amount of false pouting and bubbling laughter.

  See, Daiki couldn’t help himself, at least not tonight. It was Safiye’s wedding! Seeing his eldest sister so happy made him happy as well. The music and feasting were only a nice bonus.

  The whole village gathered to celebrate with the newlyweds; they brought plates of food, gifts and cherry wine. He’d never had cherry wine before, so naturally, he had to try it, right?

  Maybe it was the reason why he felt so warm he felt all over. But of course, mama knew how to cool him down: “The next time I’m at a wedding, it better be yours!” She lamented.

  That was a blow below the belt. Daiki opened his mouth to say something, but his brain wasn’t exactly cooperating. No more cherry wine for him tonight. Before he managed to spit out something at least half coherent, she had her hands on his face - or more accurately, in his hair. “Mama!” He winced. This grooming habit of hers was really driving him crazy! She didn’t do it as frequently as she once used to, but still, Daiki would be perfectly content if she stopped doing it altogether. “Stop it!” He wasn’t a child anymore, for God’s sake, not to mention how embarrassing it was.

  Mama obviously cared more for his looks than his hurting pride. “Hush, you’re all disheveled.” When he was still little, she used to tell him bedtime stories while running her fingers through his hair, so Daiki guessed it became some sort of habit for her. In the end, it was actually quite soothing. “No son of mine will walk around looking like a beggar.”

  “You know I’m your only son, right?”

  Right.

  She knew that very well, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was the right thing to say. Daiki watched the corners of her mouth sink. “That’s one more reason for you to marry soon. Al least you could give me a grandson.” So, that was it. Now, when they successfully ruined each other’s good mood, it was perhaps the right time for him to go. He began to straighten, slowly, giving mama enough time to pull her hands back.

  “Daiki, wait-”

  There was nothing to wait for. They already had this debate far too many times and nothing good ever came out of it.

  He guessed he’ll give the cherry wine another try.

  The sky was sprinkled with stars and Daiki craned his neck to catch a glimpse of them. It was a beautiful night, far too beautiful to be spent worrying about future marriages and other silly things. He came here because of Safiye, to celebrate her wedding and not to argue with mama about things he couldn’t change.

  He wandered around the clearing for a while, aimlessly, heading where his feet would take him. It was a good thing they held the celebration outside - the clearing was packed with people. He’d never seen some of these faces before, but as long as they brought gifts and good mood, who was he to complain? You know what they say - every guest brings a good luck.

  Sure, the newlyweds had their high chairs and a table, but aside from them, people sat on the ground, on rugs and pillows and warmed their hands around countless bonfires. A sheep was roasting on one of these - it was a gift from the butcher’s family - and cups of cherry wine were passed back and forth. Daiki caught one of them and claimed it his own; he really needed to flush down all the marriage thoughts and this thing was sweet and with just enough kick to make him sleep restlessly till kingdom came.

  That was also his plan. He already ate his share, gave his best wishes, hell, he even danced, so what if he now lied down and drank and stared at the stars? He had already told mama hundred times that he wasn’t getting married, ever. Should he spend the rest of his life next to a girl he didn’t love just because they wanted him to? How was that even fair?!

  Maybe if he prayed hard enough, the ground would open and swallow him whole.

  Slowly, Daiki let his eyes fall shut. The ground was still cold; it was way too early to lie around in the grass, but he relished in the coldness. His overheated skin finally began to cool down. He could still hear the music - drums, flutes, tamboreas, someone even tried to sing. People still danced. Daiki had the feeling he could feel each stomp vibrating through his fingertips, even though that was hardly true.

  It was actually quite peaceful.

 He must’ve really dozed off for a moment because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.

  “..ki, wake up, come on..”

  Huh?

  The first thing he saw when he cracked his eyes open was the blurred face of his father. Oh, dammit, did he sleep through the whole thing? “Huh?” Sitting up, Daiki rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “What is it?”

  “You can’t sleep now, come on!” He wasn’t even half awake when father pulled him to his feet and began walking back towards the fires. Daiki felt like a living dead, dragging his feet over the grass, eyes sliding shut every now and then, totally on their own.

  “Hurry up!”

  This was the fastest he could go without falling asleep right there on his feet like a horse.

  “We have a great visit!”

  “What?” He did not whine. Not at all. “C’mon baba, I already met them all.” Some of them even twice. They all had pretty unmarried daughters he just had to meet, you know, just in case.

  “Not this one,” father countered, “it’s a Pasha from Manisa-”

  “What?!” Bullshit. What would some southern God-knows-who be doing here? “Please, don’t drink anymore.”

  “No, you don’t get it. He’s on his way to meet the sultan himself!”

  “And?” Alright, even if some Pasha magically popped out in their village, what was he supposed to do with it?

  Father came to halt so abruptly Daiki almost crashed into his side. His face was a mixture of joy and some kind of anxiousness Daiki couldn’t really place. He didn’t like it at all.

  “Look, these men,” father started, one of his fingers pointing in the vague direction of one of the bonfires, “need a place to sleep and they are willing to pay a lot.”

  Oh, so that’s what it’s all about - gold! Now it finally made sense. Still, he squinted: “So what? You want to offer them our hay barn?” He’d bet that a pasha would send them to hell with such an offer.

  “They said they’ll take it! Besides, show me a nicer hay barn in this sanjak!”

  This couldn’t be true.

  Daiki drew in a sharp breath, ready to say something really smart, but once again, his brain failed to come up with anything. He felt like a carp, opening and closing his mouth like that.

  Fine. “Alright, whatever,” he gave up eventually, “show me that Pasha of yours.” It wasn’t as if he’d ever seen anyone even remotedly important in his life, more so, a pasha who was stupid enough to spend a night in this place must be a real spectacle. If he were a traveler, Daiki wouldn’t stop in this sanjak even if they’d paid him.

  They made their way through the crowd of wedding guests. As the night progressed, people became even merrier and many of them actually stopped father just to congratulate him on getting such a good son-in-law, beautiful daughters, a great evening and so on. He’d already heard all of that hundred times.

  They’ve just passed the half-eaten roasted sheep when Daiki realized he was actually getting a bit anxious and not in the good way. Everyone knew about Sultan’s harem and see, he had four sisters. What would they do if someone decided they were pretty enough to be taken away, huh?

  He noticed the group immediately, perhaps because they stuck out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t make out anyone’s face from this far, only huge dark forms huddled around the fire, too close to mama for his liking. No one paid them any attention as they got closer - it seemed that they were all engrossed in some story she was just telling, hopefully nothing too embarrassing.

  As they got closer, Daiki noticed one of the forms straightening, head turning their way. The man’s face was enlightened by the fire, teeth bared in a grin; he was the first one to notice them even though he didn’t acknowledge their presence in any way. His face was quite plain - the most eye-catching thing was actually a brooch pinned into the fabric of his turban. The gems reflected the light from tge fire, glistening like a couple of stars. He’d never seen anything like that. If Daiki were to guess, he’d say that one was the pasha.

  So he stood there idly, just a step behind someone’s back, either still unnoticed or simply ignored. He couldn’t really see anything from the pair of men in front of him, aside from the top of their turbans and hands folded in their laps. Both of them actually had pretty nice boots, made from leather, probably even his size. He could use a pair of those.

  What he didn’t get was why would someone like a Manisian Pasha travel with only a pair of guards. He hadn’t noticed any other soldiers around. Were they already asleep or what? The anxious feeling began to slowly creep up Daiki’s spine; is eyes instinctively searched for the familiar faces of his sisters, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of any, dammit.

  Mama just finished with her story - it had to be a really embarrassing one because the group immediately broke into a fit of wild laughter. Daiki only hoped it hadn’t involved him in any way. One of the men in front of him threw his hair back and literally howled while the other clasped his shoulder, then gave his companion a good-natured shove. Daiki guessed the two of them already had their fill of the cherry wine because the laughing one slipped from the pillow before unceremoniously landing on his back.

  Daiki made a quick step back, fortunately, but that didn’t change the fact that there was a guy sprawled in front of him, the back of his turban almost touching the tips of his toes.

  He was actually quite young, maybe his age.

  Daiki couldn’t help but grin. So now he had a handsome, drunk soldier at his feet, huh? The night was progressing better than he expected.

  The guy didn’t get up. He just lied there and stared, eyes blown wide. At first, Daiki hought he knocked out his breath - he was just about to bend down and help him when the soldier’s lips parted. He let out a soft sigh.

  “Oh God.”

  His cheeks were still flushed, either from the cherry wine or maybe from that fit of laughter, he had no idea, but it suited him. Just adorable.

  “Not really,” Daiki chuckled, “try again.”

  The guy blinked a few times. He really looked as if he were about to come up with something, but mama was faster. “Daiki!” She hissed. “Don’t you have any manners?! I’m so sorry, Pasha Hazretleri-”

  “It’s alright.” So it really was the man with the brooch. His eyes ticked between the Daiki and the drunk soldier, sharp and calculating. After a while, he eventually said: “Boys, huh? What can one do?” Alright, now was that a dismissal? Should he bow to the man or what? The confusion must have shown on his face. “You can sit down, young man,” the pasha smirked. He pointed at the unoccupied pillow between mama and the drunk soldier who already lifted himself up, with a bit of the help from his friend.

  Daiki wasn’t sure whether he wanted to sit down or not. He didn’t like the look on Pasha’s face at all; it made him feel like a piece of meat on a marketplace.

  “So?” Pasha cocked one eyebrow at him. “Sit down.”

  “I’d rather not. It was nice to meet you, Pasha Effendi, but-”

  “I said sit.”

  See, if there was one thing Daiki loathed even more than marriage threats, it was being told what to do. Pasha or not, he didn’t give a toss. He bared his teeth at the man - it was more of a snarl than a smile - more than ready to send him to proper places and this time, he was sure he’ll find the right words. That would be if the soldier didn’t open his mouth first.

  “Let him be, Kasim Pasha,” he stated, the tone his voice leaving no space for any complain. It was also surprisingly sober. “I think you already have all the attention you need.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Daiki saw mama’s face sink. He wasn’t exactly sure what went on then. Silence fell over the group. The two men kept on staring at each other, daring, and he suddenly regretted that he couldn’t see the young one’s face too. What he did see though were the sword sheats resting by their sides a d it didn’t make him feel any better.

  Eventually, Pasha gave up. He bowed his head slightly and muttered a small: “Pardon me.”

  Alright, Daiki was totally lost. He wasn’t sure what did he just witness, but he had enough for tonight. Why the hell did baba even want him to meet these people?!

  Right, he should better go check on his sisters or something. “Good night.” Even as he turned around, he could feel Pasha’s gaze on him. Great. Now they’ll have an insulted nobleman sleeping in their hay barn. Hopefully, he won’t burn it to the ground before morning came.

  “Wait!”

  He had made ten steps, twelve at most, before someone caught up with him. Daiki spun around, only to come face to face with the young guy. He lost his turban somewhere along the way - his hair was sticking in every direction possible and Daiki had to fight back the urge to touch it, to push it away from his forehead so he could see more of that handsome face. Wait, was he a redhead? Like he said before, just adorable.

  “What the hell do you want?!”

  Hell. Let’s say his brain and his mouth weren’t exactly cooperating today.

  The redhead looked surprised by the harshness of his words. His eyebrows knit together. “Well I came to apologize for Kasim Pasha, but since that’s obviously a waste of breath, then..” He shrugged. Daiki noticed he lost not only his turban but also the cloak. Now he could see clearly it wasn’t just any ordinary soldier - if he sold that kaftan, he could feed his whole family for an entire month.

  “No, go for it,” he smirked. An apology couldn’t hurt, plus he was really starting to appreciate this guy’s looks. “What did you say was your name, again?”

  This time it was the redhead who cracked a smile. “I didn’t say.”

  Oh, so he was being cheeky, huh?! “Fine, I don’t need to know, anyway.”

  Maybe he could indulge him for a little while, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

  “It’s Taiga.”

  The boy cocked one of his fine eyebrows at him, confused. “What?”

  “My name,” he explained, “it’s Taiga.” He wasn’t sure why he the thing what he said before. Was it the wine talking? Taiga had never drunk anything like that before – hell, he didn’t drink at all – and it went straight to his head. Or groin, depending on whether he had his eyes on the tanned boy or not.

  He was led into the center of the clearing. Group of musicians sat there, playing some cheerful, fast-paced tune, but Taiga paid them no attention. The moment he laid his eyes on him, he felt enthralled. It was as if he sunk under a spell. Taiga took in his face, the smooth skin illuminated by red and gold firelight, his sharp nose, the curve of his lips – he’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this young man, this Daiki. Even his name sounded delicious; Taiga wanted to taste it. He wanted to whisper it into the crook of his neck when he had his way with him, wanted to hear his own name rolling of the other’s tongue, again and again, until his voice broke.

  “Taiga, huh?” Yeah, that was a good start. “Never met anyone of that name.”

  “Then I’ll be your first.”

  At that moment, Taiga thought he overstepped some line. Daiki – what an adorable name – stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to face him fully, inky eyes blown wide. Taiga wonder what color they had in the daylight; It was a shame he won’t see.

  The smile he was given them was nothing short of wicked. “Oh, you wish!”

  They walked in silence after that. Taiga could practically feel the heat radiating from his cheeks; he didn’t mean it like that, well, at least not entirely, but now he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. See, he had always been quick to fall for pretty faces, but never this quick and never this hard. Then again, if this was his last night, then he saw no better way of spending it than between Daiki’s thighs.

  “So,” the boy began again, “I think you wanted to apologize.”

  “Right.” When he was still little, he once made the terrible mistake of stealing almonds from the palace kitchen and Kizlar Agha made him apologize at least hundred times. Since then, he had the whole motion under his skin. It was trivial, really – right palm was placed over one’s heart, left arm beyond one’s back, then followed a deep bow and “please, accept my most sincere apologies.” Easy and elegant.

  Taiga didn’t really expect any reaction. People at palace usually reacted to apology with condescending silence, so when he saw the way Daiki’s face twitched, he was honestly surprised. The boy blinked at him. “What do you take me for? A şehzade?”

  Oh, no. That was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

  “I-I’m sorry.“ He must’ve looked so stupid, especially if he were swaying as hard as he thought he were.

  Daiki shook his head: “No, it was nice, just.. Forget it. Apology accepted, now come on.”

  He made a few steps then, but Taiga forgot to follow – he became entranced by the sway of his hips, the lightness of his step. It took a few moments for Daiki to realize he wasn’t being followed. “Hey! Come on, let’s go dance, Taiga!”

  What?

  He’d never danced before. Men didn’t dance as far as he knew; women did, draped in flimsy silk dresses, with belts studded with beads and small coins. He would be no good at that. Of course this dance was different, but that didn’t automatically mean that he was any eager to try it out. “Let me watch first, alright?” He told Daiki when the other tried to make him join the line, only to be rewarded with another one of his pouts. Did the boy realize just how kissable he was then? Taiga suspected he might.

  So, he ended up sitting alone at one of the rugs, a cup of that awfully sweet wine in hand and gaze firmly fixed on their host’s son. It wasn’t exactly a bad way to spend his last night, right? Daiki was easy on the eyes, really. Energetic and lively, light on his feet even when he was supposed to stomp – Taiga had the feeling he was showing off. The rest of the men mostly just shuffled their feet and attempted to keep the rhythm, but not him. There was no way he’d be able to keep up with that, even if he wanted to.

 

  No, right now, he was more than content with just watching. The world was spinning, the music was too loud and he was too drunk to think about moving his feet in any other direction than the one of the hay barn Pasha so graciously found for them. Now that was a good one; he wondered what would Father say if he knew that one of his sons spent his last night sleeping in a hay. Then again, it was surely more comfortable than a coffin.

  The boy materialized in front of him just when he was about to get another cup. “Where the hell are you? And what’s with that sour face?” Taiga could already see it coming, the petulant jut of his bottom lip. Daiki was saying something, his lips were moving and Taiga found himself unable to tear his eyes away; he wanted to catch that firm bottom lip between his own, wanted to slip his tongue inside the hot cavern of his mouth and make him shudder and moan.

  This might be as good time as any.

  He reached his hand out towards the tanned boy, trying to get a hold of his tunic, but Daiki was quicker. His fingers curled around Taiga’s forearm; he had no problem pulling him up, back on his feet and the next thing he knew, they were swaying – no, only he was swaying – down some path, towards the hay barn. When he stumbled for the second time, Daiki huffed: “God! What kind of a soldier are you if you cannot drink?”

  “Soldier?” Taiga scrunched his face in a confusion. Wait, did the boy really think he was some kind of a soldier? Now that was a good joke!

  “Well, aren’t you one?”

  “Not really.” Perhaps if he were a soldier, he’d die with a steel in his hand instead of a cord around his neck.

  Suddenly, Daiki stopped walking.

  “Then who are you?” He could feel his gaze burning holes into his cheek. The boy really had nice eyes, Taiga decided; they weren’t as dark as he initially thought, no. Now, with the moonlight pouring over his face, they seemed paler, sharper. Maybe he was blue-eyed after all – a blue-eyed witch; that would explain a lot.

  “What does it matter who I am?” He scowled. It wasn’t as if he could just tell the other – he had no idea what would happen if Daiki accidentally spilt somewhere that he bedded a şehzade, but he guessed it wouldn’t be anything nice. Maybe they’d strangle them both, just for a good measure.

  Back then, he had no idea who was he dealing with.

  A crisp breeze toyed with his hair, pushing them into his eyes and Taiga lifted his hand to sweep the wayward strands away - imagine his surprise when the boy knocked it away! Instead, he ran his own fingers through the red tresses, gently pushing them away from his forehead. When he finally felt satisfied with his work, he let the nimble fingers caress Taiga’s cheek.

  He wasn’t really aware of how close they were until now.

  His eyes were pools of blue, Taiga was now sure of it; he felt entirely bewitched, pliant even under the faint touch and already anxious for more. He wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes off the other’s face even if he wanted to. Daiki smiled at him then, a bright, wicked smile that made both his knees and his mind weak, too weak to refuse when the other offered: “If you tell me, I’ll kiss you.”

  He was just toying with him, Taiga was more than aware of that. The way he pressed against his chest gave him away – it was all just an excuse to finally get closer, but this was first and foremost a game for two. He leaned into the temptation. His lips brushed against the soft skin of Daiki’s earlobe when he whispered: “Kiss me and I might tell you.”

  The boy shuddered. Taiga could hear him drawing in a sharp breath, followed by a small chuckle before he let his face rest against Taiga’s, cheek to cheek. The şehzade could feel his lashes flutter shut. Silence settled between them afterwards, but Taiga didn’t mind. He was more than happy to spend his last night like this, close to this new, exciting person, just standing there and breathing in the scent of his hair. For the first time in days, he felt peaceful.

  That peace was abruptly broken off, though. Suddenly, he could feel Daiki moving; his lips were traveling down Taiga’s face, leaving behind a trail of butterfly-like kisses until he eventually, after what felt like ages, found Taiga’s lips.

  He tasted like a cherry wine. Once again, Taiga felt drunk; drunk on him, drunk on his touches. His lips made him lightheaded and the way he pressed against him made his insides boil. He slithered one arm around Daiki’s lithe waist, bringing them flush together and the gesture was heavily appreciated – Daiki rolled his hips against Taiga’s, the newfound friction making them both moan.

  The kiss became a mess after that. Taiga could hardly remember where he ended and the other began. He could feel Daiki’s fingers raking down his back, counting his ribs before his hands traveled over his sides and up his chest, sliding up his pectorals. Taiga paid him back in kind. He tried to memorize as much from that perfect body as he could; from the line of his neck, down to the small of his back and even further, until his fingers kneaded that perky backside. He’d never thought that such a pretty boy could make such lewd noises. He had the mind to lift him up and have him wrap these long legs against his waist when suddenly, Daiki drew away.

  “Have you heard that?”

  “Heard what?” The only thing Taiga heard were the breathless little moans escaping from the other’s lips. “It’s alright, relax,” he assured him, never really ceasing his assault on the sensitive skin of his neck.

  “Hell, wai-“

  “You should listen to him, Şehzade.”

  They could as well drive a dagger between his ribs.

  Taiga untangled himself from the tanned boy. He was more than certain whose face was he about to see and the knowledge made his stomach sink.

  Sure, there he was, Kasim Avşar Pasha himself, holding a burning torch. Teppei stood few feet behind him. He looked just as surprised as Taiga felt.

  So, thas was it.

  He stole one last glance at his almost-lover. Daiki didn’t move an inch; his hand was still resting on Taiga’s hip, almost protectively. What a fool.

  “Go home,” he hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, Taiga could see the tanned face twisting in a confusion. “Taiga..?”

  “Go home!” He repeated, this time with a lot more bite. “I said go! Now!” Eventually, he had to give the boy a shove in the right direction. Then, when he could finally hear his footsteps shuffling down the path, Taiga turned his attention back to the duo of intruders.

  Pasha’s mouth twisted in a victorious smirk. “Good God, Şehzade! I say now we really need to talk.”


End file.
